


Cats Mean Redemption

by ApeironStella



Category: Pandora Hearts
Genre: I mean it is both, I'm emotionally dead rn, White Knight hurts my soul and this is not even beta read, but still, hahahaha...., this is not shippy this is pure angst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-26
Updated: 2018-05-26
Packaged: 2019-05-14 04:25:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,642
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14762559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ApeironStella/pseuds/ApeironStella
Summary: (“...Yeah.” comes out, in the end, when the head falls back. He keeps his hand leaning to now rising and falling side of its’ back as the cat dozes off again; feeling the rhythmic rise and fall of its breathing and beating heart under his touch-“...That would be good.”)[Or, sometimes learning to how to forgive yourself starts with petting a stray cat.]





	Cats Mean Redemption

He is not Elliot Nightray.

He is not the young man who revolves his entire life around his family; to bring the Honour and Glory back to his scorned bloodline despite being one of the Four Noble Dukedoms that rules and protects the country they live in. He is not the young man who turned a blind eye at his own crimes, acting as if he didn’t see and letting a monster take away all the guilt he felt from his actions to keep his conscience guilt-free; despite the fact that, in the end, it was his own hands that ended up undoing the family he so treasured and wanted to protect. He is not that coward, who only owned up to his actions when it was far, far too late.

Yet, he can’t say that he is completely _not_ Elliot, either.

He is technically White Knight; a Chain that is made out of what was left of said young man’s soul and personality (Which was the reason why he was so adamant on acting Properly and tried to upheld the Honour of a True Knight- Especially until memories started to trickle down and Elliot resurfaced), which came face-to-face with people held dear by the Nightray; ones that dearly missed him and welcomed him back in any form or shape- without any judgement on his cowardice to take the easy way out (which he, Elliot Nightray, despised. White Knight, on the other hand, would feel honoured to die in a battlefield after managing to protect his Master from harm and go out managing to fullfill his duty to the very end- for he would not like to go out with no rhyme or reason. It is the proper way to die, as a Knight. Elliot, the one that is neither fully White Knight or Elliot Nightray, finds that he simply can’t stomach the idea of dying for the sole reason of it would be running away and leaving others behind; while he gets the easy way out, again.) and due to this influence, ended up becoming something different than the Chain he originally was.

He is a being that revolves around protecting his Best Friend, his Master and his old Valet Leo- Who is also the Glen of their world; the one who keeps the balance between The World and The Abyss. He is a being that currently has very few other reasons to be there for, maybe save for also knocking some sense into his annoyingly child like elder adopted brother who he found he despised and loved in equal measure; for both how much he keeps up with his cryptic threats that were meant to be warnings as he cared about him in his own twisted way but also still finding himself unable to fully stomach what he did to Fred and his Father. (He despises him, for he doesn’t seem to regret what he did- he doesn’t seem to feel any guilt over the stains on his hands; lives he took unlike himself.) There isn’t quite much for him to do or be, unlike Elliot Nightray, but he also doesn’t simply feel comfortable with just serving his Master to perfection, unlike White Knight.

It is taking time for him to fully settle down with his current existence, that is, by all means, a patchwork of memories and bonds held together by sense of guilt and duty the Chain felt towards Leo and to his now (mostly) deceased family-

Neither fully Elliot Nightray or White Knight.

And yet, it seems like one of the few things that did carry over to Elliot (and naturally, to White Knight) is Elliot Nightray’s love and admiration for felines.

So, it only makes sense that when Leo comes with a kitten in his arms, saying that he found the creature out in the rain (and he has to take a glance at the window to realize it was raining outside- he is sure that Leo would say “Such a fitting weather for your truly uplifting thoughts” or something along those lines, had he know what his mind was pondering on) he is quick to his feet to get towels for both his friend/master/old valet and the orange ball of fur shivering between said person’s arms. Once he has the creature wrapped in the towel he holds and takes it over from Leo, the man is taking off his shirt and drying himself as well.

There is a line thrown by Leo, teasing him by saying he seemed to care more about a cat than his friend (and master, but he never liked acknowledging that so it is fairly rare for him to make a joke out of that) and tone he uses is one of mock hurt. He brushes it aside with a comment on it was because he rarely did get sick, if ever, especially since he had awakened the Glen(though without the last part and phrases it as Leo was always as healthy as a horse so there was no need to fret over it), as he focuses on drying the fur to his best ability at the weak mews of protest that escapes from the cat. (For it to sound this weak, it must be hungry... They likely still had some milk left, in the attic. He would have to check once he is done with drying)

It doesn’t take too long, before he is done with getting most of the water away, leaving only a bit of dampness. He hears the voice of logs hitting the chimney, and he doesn’t have to look to realize  Leo was litting the fireplace up; for it would be for the best to get it fully dried up as soon as possible. Once done (and it is surprisingly easy- for even a kitten of this size should be putting a lot more protest; it shouldn’t be that easy to dry it and wrap it in another towel as he leaves it by the fireplace that was now lit) he tells Leo that he would get some milk for their small friend, to which he gets a nod as Leo settles down on the couch across the fireplace (noirette always liked reading a book as they sat by it at quiet, rainy nights such as this, on that couch) and returns with said condiment before long.  
  
He places the plate in front of now less of a shivering mess feline’s mouth, which takes a while before the cat starts lapping at it, but once it does, it empties almost all of the milk as he seats himself down on the couch shared by Leo and the cat- placing himself to the left side of the animal while Leo is on the right, holding a book as usual while a hand is petting its head, throwing glances to both him and the creature now and then. He relaxes once the milk is done and the fur feels not even quite damp anymore (and when the shivering stops fully), his hand running up and down through its body to check, just to be sure, before it lands on the head. Now, it seems a lot more lively, and rubs its head against his fingers and hand- brushing teeth against the side of his fingers. He can’t help but smile at that. For the moment, he forgets how he couldn’t even stomach the idea of playing his most treasured songs for how it would feel like his hands would taint the emotions and sentiments he felt and shared with his co-composer that they carried-

He simply watches with fondness as the cat deems it appropiate to wrap into itself right next to him, leaning its back to his leg, in a show of trust and comfort. Rubbing its back a bit, he waits for it to fall asleep, for it must be tired. Only once it does, he hears the chuckle from his side- turning to see Leo watching him with an amused but soft expression that turns him bright. He is quick to find himself drawing his hand away; snapping back to the reality, back to how he shouldn’t be touching such a new and fragile life with such stained hands. “We can keep it, if you want.” is the teasing, yet genuine words coming from his friend, at that.

He should be saying no to this, by all means. He should, because it is not right- It is not right because that golden ball of currently happy and sleeping fur should not be held by hands of a coward; hands of a murderer. He should be staying as far as he can from it, for it deserves far, far better. Someone who doesn’t have blood of their family, of lives on their hands. Someone...

The cat moves a bit, pressing against his leg further as his eyes lands back on the small body; meeting the bead like onyx eyes that are staring at him as it mews, as if questioning loss of the warmth his hand provided and asking him to rub its head more. He throws a glance back at Leo, who watches the scene wordlessly, and returns his gaze back to the cat as his hand is hesitantly once again placed on its head, scratching that area he knows cats enjoy between its ears as it purrs in delight and keeps lazily swinging its tail, hitting his leg and Leo’s back and fro, before its eyes once again closes; seemingly satisfied. “...Yeah.” comes out, in the end, when the head falls back. He keeps his hand leaning to now rising and falling side of its back as the cat dozes off again; feeling the rhythmic rise and fall of its breathing and beating heart under his touch-

“...That would be good.”


End file.
